First of all: fuck yeah. Time-travel back to high school and you have the line-up we'll all be experiencing tonight at Carabar: Go Evol Shiki, Mortimur and Audion. Before I was legal, I was sneaking into shows (sorry to all the bartending friends I betrayed in my youth) or heading to Bernie's to see these bands. The funny thing is, it doesn't bring back memories of the shows as much as it brings back the entirety of my life back then--memories of house shows, boyfriends, ex-boyfriends, best friends, my now-busted charcoal-gray 1987 Mercedes SEL (it had a reclining back seat, dudes), homework, suspensions, curfews I never followed and teen angst are all flooding into my already too-cluttered brain. Needless to say, I am distracted as fuck and being entirely unproductive today.
Anyway, that's how I'm closing the night out--so let's start at the beginning--first Alix and I are going to grab some dinner. I feel like nothing more needs to be said about that, unless of course, you want to join us--you can txt me. So, I've got to write a paper on a sculpture or a painting for my prerequisite history class--enter the Wexner Center opening of works by Cyprien (too bad it can't be on a film).
I'm excited to see the works in person--and am going to try extremely hard not to think about, discuss, engage or enjoy them. Why? My professor is absolutely forbidding us to do more than describe the actual piece (1 page, double spaced) and then reflect on them (1 page, double spaced). The problem with this reflection is that we're basically prohibited to 'I felt this was nice' or 'I don't like this painting and thought it was stupid.' I'm not kidding. He refuses to let us analyze, contextualize, or intellectually interpret the work. When we got our last papers back on Wednesday, he even called out people who "looked into it" too much. The hilarity of this would appeal to me, except, needless to say, with so much restriction on critical thought, I find writing these papers unbearably difficult.
Next: Laura and I are going to make the Cornish Hen + Egg Noodle soup that we started yesterday (she forgot to thaw them before hand, so all we got done was cooking the halved birds and stripping the meat off the carcass--the latter of which Ian did). She bought a huge stock pot from the thrift store for $18.99, which I'm envious of, but definitely don't need. Ultimately, we failed in our mission (see above), so we split vegan chili-cheese fries at Carabar.
And then, of course: the show! Being, what, 17?--I didn't know any of the members of these bands personally until much later (see also: now). That was the time of No Tagbacks (don't worry, I didn't like that music then either), Roar is the Sound (two boyfriends in that one--go ahead, you can laugh), Young Zeus, etc. These are bands that I loved, and in a 'wow, you're older and you're so cool,' sort of way (e.g. The Cinema Eye--sorry Mookz)--so some serious nostalgia is creeping up on me. I have to admit, I wrote this post for the sole reason that my astronomy homework was making my brain melt. Now back to it? I mean, come on, I've got all weekend to do it. And it's almost time to head downtown...
P.S. Scratch that non-productivity that I was talking about--I just cleaned an entire room of all the junk I had scattered across it. If you know me at all, you know that this is a level of high-productivity for me. I want to be congratulated. Seriously.
Side note: If you don't find yourself at Carabar tonight, see if you can support Heather's V-day benefit at Surly Girl (proceeds go to SARNCO), then go see my brother play at Dragonfly Neo V with his new band or Zobe at the Treehouse. I'm not driving, or you know I'd be everywhere all at once. Gone are the days when I party-hopped. Now I just party-slide. What? Yeah, me neither.
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